


A Single Drop of Rain

by Tabithian



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim is asleep. So much sleep is going on right now he can't even believe it, there's so much sleep. <i>All</i> the sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Drop of Rain

**Author's Note:**

> themandylion wanted Dick & Tim buddycop fic or Dick & Steph being bros and hanging and the line "Because nothing says heterosexuality like a gold sash" plus Dick's questionable fashion choices.
> 
> But then weirdo family bonding things happened, so. *hands*

Tim is asleep. So much sleep is going on right now he can't even believe it, there's so much sleep. _All_ the sleep.

“Come on, asshole, I know you're not asleep, answer your damn comm.”

 _No_ , a part of Tim's brain whines, the part that's smarter than the rest of him and goes ignored in the face of duty and responsibility and the insanity that Tim's life has become. _It's a trap._

“If you don't answer your comm, I'm going to throw your partner and _his_ current partners in crime out of the airlock and you get to tell Bruce why.”

Tim hates this.

Hates being sent on extended missions with his partner (although Tim really appreciates it when they don't die horribly), only for said partner to do something stupid when the mission is over. Usually when they make a stop at stations like this one to refuel and resupply for the trip back to Earth. 

Tim flails a hand towards the blinking light at the edge of his periphery, personal com set aside on the end table because he knows his partner. Knows how Dick gets after a mission like their latest one, and ending up at this particular mining station was bound to end in disaster of some sort.

“It's fine,” Tim says, when he finds the comm, voice raised as he taps the send button. “Bruce will understand after he reads my report. You might even get a commendation.”

It's a crapshoot, which way Damian will lean, but Tim's pretty sure he could take the brat if it comes down to it.

There's a pause, considering, that makes Tim smile. He's already starting to drift back into that blissful state of sleep he hasn't had the chance to experience since Bruce handed them their latest assignment.

“Yeah, nice as that sounds, I kind of don't hate my partner, so get a move on you asshole.”

Tim groans, head half-buried under his pillow, comm clutched tight in his hand.

Contemplates leaving things as they are, Dick will probably be able to talk himself out of being spaced, but - 

There's ever chance he's going to talk himself into being punched in the face before being spaced, and really, the paperwork would be a nightmare.

“Give me - “ Tim pauses, thinks about his current state, dull ache in his side and the itch of the regenerative gel working its magic, and sighs. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

Enough time for a quick shower and change of clothes and fake being a respectable government agent while he retrieves his partner from the station's brig.

“Deal.”

Another pause, and then there's a laugh, warm and familiar, and some of the irritation Tim's fades at the sound. The reminder that the mission's over, they're in safe territory and sleep – while still hard to come by – isn't something that might get him – them killed.

Tim smiles, faintly as that same little part of his mind that's smarter than the rest of him murmuring _safe_ in the back of Tim's head. _Safesafesafe_.

********

This used to be an old deep space mining station, built on a broken moon orbiting a a dead planet and a dense asteroid field rich with ore and mineral deposits for the taking strung around them.

It was the kind of posting that tended to draw in the sort of people Alfred oh so politely refers to as having “character” with an oddly fond smile on his face. 

Tim knows Alfred's thinking of Bruce and the very special agents he's sucked into his orbit when he says things like that.

Which, fair. It takes a certain kind of person to stay on with Bruce and his little government agency full of people with unique skill sets – all of whom are varying degrees of insane.

After one two many incidents in the asteroid field, miners snapping under the extended periods or isolation and pressures of the job, it was decommissioned, left drifting in the black for years.

Until Bruce came along with his agency, bought the station and had it retrofitted and assigned a small crew to man it. Use it as a checkpoint for various agencies, place for agents and operatives to regroup before the long trip back to Earth.

Different crew and staff have come and gone over the years, and it's become the kind of place where agents go when they're not quite ready to retire, but not in the right mindset for active fieldwork.

This late in the station's night cycle the corridors are empty, dark and quiet, no one to see Tim making his way to the center hub and moving with purpose.

Jason's leaning next to an observation window, small smile on his face as he looks out at the docking ring and the ships and shuttles docked there. Brilliant flash of red for his _Outlaw_ , fast little number that's kept Jason alive this long.

She doesn't see a lot of action these days, unless there's pirate activity near the station, warning indicator something big is in the offing.

“You didn't tell me you took the asshole's ship,” Jason says, turning to face him, eyes narrowing as he takes in the medi-patches, the way Tim's holding himself. “I thought you were on a super secret mission.”

Tim joins Jason at the window and sighs.

Dick's _Nightwing_ is hard to miss with its current modifications, all flashy colors and the kind of lines to her that indicate maneuverability and speed, little bit of a dare thrown in there.

“We were supposed to draw attention,” Tim says, “Dick wants to keep her registered as _Flamebird_.”

Jason snorts, bumping his shoulder against Tim's to get him moving towards the station's brig.  
“Color me surprised.”

Tim smiles, small and crooked.

Dick's been trying to get Tim to change his code name to Flamebird for years, and according to Jason Dick tried that on him too back when Jason was an active field agent.

Kory's on duty when they reach the brig, giving them a them a warm, amused smile as she buzzes them through the security doors leading to the holding cells.

Tim glances up at Jason, realizing a little belatedly that this is the middle of his sleep cycle too, looking tired and equal parts amused and annoyed.

As they draw nearer to the holding cells they can hear, faintly, what sounds like drunken singing.

Two, no, three distinct voices.

Tim was expecting to hear Dick's voice. Fifty-fifty chance for Roy's given he runs a little speak-easy down in one of the storage holds, hidden away from someone who might go looking but not put too much effort into a search for contraband.

It's the third voice that gives Tim pause, sends a little shiver of dread down his spine.

One of Oracle's operatives, better kept secret than Bruce and his agents, most people don't even know they exist.

And if Bruce and his agents are “characters” - 

“You know,” Jason say, slowly, like he's thinking along the same lines, “we could just leave them here. Let them sober up, reconsider their terrible life choices.”

Tempting, so very tempting, but.

“Oracle,” Tim reminds him.

She sees and knows all, and if they leave one of her people to sober up in a holding cell in safe territory like this they'll regret it.

“Christ, fine,” Jason says, and presses his hand against the scanner that unlocks the final door leading to the holding cells. 

A few feet down and Tim can see Dick leaning against Roy, arm slung companionably over one another's shoulders, a smaller figure sprawled over them, using Dick's lap as a pillow.

“Tim!”

“Jaybird!”

“Boyfriend!”

Jason and Tim share a look at the enthusiastic greetings, the overly bright smiles aimed their way.

“Too late to pretend we didn't see them, isn't it?” 

********

Kory helps Steph to her quarters, smiling wide and amused when Steph grabs Tim into a bear hug, whispering fiercely in his ear about not pulling stupid stunts again, _what have I told you about that?_ Jason drags Roy away after he pats Tim on the head like a small puppy and admonishes him not to make Dick worry and then it's just Tim and Dick.

And a hideous cobbled together sash that's been painted gold around his shoulders.

“Where did your shirt go?”

Dick shrugs, looking down at the sash he's wearing and plucks at it, little curl to his mouth. It looks like it's made from old parts off one of the power loader exoskeletons, and gold paint comes off on his fingers.

“There was a bet,” Dick says, carefully forming the words. “I lost.”

Tim snorts, pulls Dick's arm around his waist and guides him around a support pillar glowing a pale blue in the dimness.

It's slow-going, Tim mostly carrying Dick which isn't doing his ribs any favors, and there's an unpleasant twinge in his shoulder, but they manage.

“You don't say.”

Dick laughs, quiet and low, breath tickling Tim's ear. “Steph cheated.”

Tim's hold on Dick tightens when he stumbles a little.

“I warned you,” he says.

He'd warned all of them, really, when he realized Steph was working for Oracle a few years back. That she wasn't a freelancer anymore, and was always someone to keep an eye on.

Trouble in the best kind of way, really.

“So what's the sash for?”

Dick jerks to a halt, pulling Tim back with him and he puffs his chest up, smacking a fist over the sash resting across his heart.

“There was another bet,” Dick says, looking so proud of himself. “I won that one.”

Tim wants to ask, he does, but - 

“Yeah, okay,” Tim says, because it's some kind of victory when Roy and Steph are involved. Probably. “Congratulations, Dick.”

Dick beams at him, so very pleased with himself and Tim can't help the answering smile.

********

It takes some doing, to get Dick back to their quarters, Jason citing station repairs after a blown generator a few weeks back for the inconvenience that ended with Tim and Dick bunking together.

Tim's pulling back, planning on checking on Dick's ship when Dick's hand wraps around his wrist and he tugs, firm, insistent.

Tim looks at him, frowning – 

“You need to stop doing things like that, Tim,” Dick says, fingers brushing lightly against the medi-patch on Tim's face and neck, skimming over the bandages around Tim's ribs.

There's a sad twist to his mouth, something dark and unreadable in his eyes.

Tim sighs, reaching up with the hand Dick's not holding on to to brush hair out of Dick's face, thumb sweeping along the faint line of pink along his temple that leads into hiss hairline. The faint discoloring still present after the medical treatments.

“As soon as you do the same, idiot.”

Dick makes a face, like Tim's being unreasonable, and Tim knows the drill. Knows what Dick's gearing up to say, has said ever since Bruce partnered the two of them up all those years ago.

It all boils down to Dick being older and having more experience in the field, that he's supposed to look out for his partner, make sure nothing happens to him.

Tim's heard it over and over again from Bruce and Dick, different versions of it from Barbara and Jason, Steph, Cass. Roy, the few times they worked together.

And Tim always comes back with the same thing, every time.

“Hey,” Tim says, gently flicks Dick's forehead. “We're partners, Dick. You look out for me, and I look out for you. That's how it works.”

One of them gets in over their head, the other one does whatever it takes to get them back out.

As long as they both make it out alive, Tim's going to call it a win.

Dick's looking at him the way he does when he thinks Tim's being an idiot – and Tim's looking at Dick the way Tim looks at him when he's definitely being an idiot.

“Bruce's rules, abridged version.”

Dick laughs, little huff of air and it's easy from there to tip him over and pull the blankets up, fingers in his hair and a gentle scalp massage to get him to sleep, Tim keeping an eye on him until sleep pulls him down too.

********

“You look tired,” Dick says, taking the seat across from Tim.

Tim squints up at him. It's been four hours since Tim collected Dick from the station's brig, and nowhere near enough time to make up for all that wonderful sleep Tim's been missing out on.

Tim feels like he's still half-asleep, tired and groggy and a teeny bit irritable.

Dick, on the other hand, is bright-eyed and bushy tailed and if it was anyone else it would be horrifying. 

On Dick it's the norm.

“You say that a lot,” Tim says, looking around to see if there's anyone to save him from a conversation he really doesn't want to have.

Jason and the others have just walked in, and going from the look of sheer delight on Jason's face and glee and just plain smirkiness on Steph and Roy's faces, that's not going to help. 

Kory must still be on shift, or they wouldn't even dare try this...whatever they're going to do.

Dick makes a humming noise, and pilfers one of Tim's grapes, grinning at him as Tim glares.

“I say that a lot because you keep _not sleeping_.”

Tim's eyebrows go up at that, mouth opening to ask Dick what he thought Tim was trying to do last night before Jason commed him, but - 

“Hey, I forgot to mention it last night, but that's a nice look on you, Dickie.”

Tim turns to see Jason trailing Roy and Steph approaching their table.

Steph grins at Tim, slumping next to him as Jason nudges Roy into a seat next to Dick and then takes the empty chair on Tim's other side.

“I mean,” Jason leans in to rap his knuckles on the sash. “It's just so fashionable.”

Dick tugging his sleeve down to buff out any perceived smudges or who even knows what that Jason might have left. 

“Ridiculous,” he says, little amused curl to his lips. “Clearly you don't know your fashion.”

As if the sash isn't something they didn't put together down in Roy's little bar from whatever had found its way in there from the storage holds.

Tim tries to lean away from Steph when she digs her nails into his arm, body shaking with silent laughter before she sits up and taps the sash with a nail,sound of metal ringing in the air.

“Because nothing says heterosexuality like a gold sash?”

It sounds like this is something they've talked about before, an old joke between the three of them, and now Tim really, really doesn't want to know. 

Better for his sanity in the long run, probably.

Tim looks at Dick, the way his smug little smile ratchets up at that, Roy trying to smother his own stupid grin, and Steph laughing against Tim.

“Exactly,” Dick says, like it's a universal law somewhere, and anyone who's never heard of it is so very uncouth.

Tim looks to Jason who shrugs, and snags Tim's toast off his tray. “Fuck if I know, Tim, he's your partner.”

Right, yes, but he's also worked with Roy and Steph on special missions for Bruce and Oracle and Tim's never really had the courage to try to hack their mission reports. Not when things like entire planets going missing happened or memos started flying at headquarters, new rules being added to the list of things agents weren't allowed to do.

“You say that like it means anything anymore,” Tim says, and gives up, sliding his tray to Roy and Steph who picks it clean. “I mean, have you met the guy?”

Jason gives Tim this fond look.“I warned you, didn't I?”

Tim's warning about Steph was just Tim going up Dick and the others and telling them, _“Hey, look. Steph is a fantastic operative but also a horrible human being. Do not be fooled by the face she puts on for the gullible.”_

Jason's warning to Tim had happened while Tim was taking the prototype for Dick's ship for a a test flight and Jason shooting Tim down over a forest moon. That had been unwarranted, but hunting Tim across said forest moon for days before Dick and the others found them was maybe a tad bit overkill.

Jason tracking Tim to a little cave and standing over him with a handmade spear and saying, _“This. This is what it's like to be partners with that asshole. All the time,"_ was just Jason's special way of introducing himself as a complete asshole.

The fact that everyone had thought Jason was dead at the time and hadn't so much as batted an eye when Jason explained everything he'd put Tim through with a terse, _”Training exercise,”_ had just made the entire experience more surreal.

“You made my life flash before my eyes,” Tim says, and he's not lying. “Also, I got parasites because of you.”

The burrowing kind.

If it wasn't for medical advancements being what they are, Tim would still have the scars.

“Eh,” Jason says, like anything he did back then was in any way normal. “You survived, right? That's the important thing.”

Tim looks at Jason, scarred from the ordeal that had left everyone thinking he was dead for years, calmly nibbling at Tim's toast. He looks at Dick, so, so pleased with that sash of his, and Roy and Steph bickering over what's left of Tim's breakfast.

Tim rolls his eyes, kicking Jason's leg under the table, but gently because - 

Tim can feel the fading itch of the regenerative gel on his face, the rest of the burns from their last mission. The ache of his ribs, and looks up to see Jason watching him, corner ups his mouth pulled up into a wry smile.

“Was I wrong?”

He's not, is the thing.

Having Dick as a partner is horrible and terrifying sometimes, considering the kinds of missions they take on, the danger they throw themselves at. But then there's everything else about Dick, the things that make everything worth it. 

“I could have gone without the survival gauntlet you put me through,” Tim says, and unsurprisingly it's still a sore spot with him after all this time. 

“Suck it up, Tim. You knew what you were signing up for when you joined up with Bruce's band of freaks.”

The sad thing is, Jason's not wrong about that, either.


End file.
